Blood Ties
by mgowriter
Summary: When everything goes wrong during their first treasure heist, Sully must find a way to keep Nate alive.
1. Chapter 1

**mgowriter's note**: The news of Amy Hennig leaving Naughty Dog spiked my worries concerning Uncharted 4, so instead of sitting on my hands and worrying more, I started writing this story. It is amazing to write Nate and Sully again; it has been too long.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

_Palm Bay, Florida, 1998_

Droplets of sweat sprung from the palms of Nate's hands as he climbed the last flight of stairs. The temperature outside hovered just above 100 degrees. Each ascending level of the house added to the already intolerable humidity.

The sound of several voices floated down from above. Nate's heartbeat quickened. He forced himself to stand straighter. _Here goes nothing_.

Ahead of him, Cuervo cleared his throat as they entered the room. Four pairs of eyes looked up from a table covered with maps. Nate recognized the other three men instantly. He had studied their pictures probably hundreds of times. Morales, a short man with a thick beard and an unnatural love for explosives, stood closest to the door. Rivera was next, a specialist in long distance targets and a former sniper in the Venezuelan military. Batista, Cuervo's right hand man, stood the furthest away.

When his eyes arrived at his mentor, Nate couldn't help his blink of surprise. Sully commanded the center of the room. His usually relaxed outfit of Cuban shirt and khaki pants had been replaced with a tight-fitting black t-shirt and grey and black camouflaged pants that ended in heavy combat boots. The outfit matched the slicked back hair and day-old scruff on his cheeks. It was completed by the lit cigar in his mouth and the Smith and Wesson .44 Magnum at his side, gleaming from the light that filtered in through the window.

Sully's features darkened as he looked up from the map. He ripped the cigar out of his mouth and pointed it at Nate.

"Goddammit, Cuervo, I thought you said you were bringing in someone with experience. What is this?" He didn't wait for an answer. "How old are you kid, fourteen, fifteen?"

Nate felt his throat tighten under the stare of the other men. He briefly wondered if acting was one of the many professions Sully used to dabble in before he turned professional treasure hunter, because he was doing a damn good job of it.

"Eighteen," he said, consciously deepening his voice. It was a small lie. He turned sixteen last month.

Sully gave him a skeptical look, continuing the act.

"It was all I could do on short notice," said Cuervo, placing his arm around Nate's shoulder. "Besides, we've got ourselves a genuine escape artist here. Isn't that right, buddy?"

Sully raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean, escape artist?"

"This morning, I don't get twenty feet from my hotel when I notice my wallet is missing. Next thing I see, the kid is standing across the street, waving it at me like I'm some kind of idiot." He motioned toward Nate. "I start running after him and it takes half a fucking hour to chase him down. This kid—you should see him climb the walls; faster than a damn monkey. Anyways, I catch him, tie him up, and I'm thinking okay, I'll take him to an associate to be taken care of. On the way there, he escapes two more fucking times. I figure he's more than qualified for the job."

Sully flashed Nate the faintest indication of a smirk as he considered Cuervo's words. It said without so many words, _well done, kid_. Cuervo, as predicted, had conveniently left out the part where they would have to pay Nate a lot less than they had previously planned. That meant more money for everyone else.

"A street thief, huh?" Sully asked. "What are you doing here?"

Nate shrugged. "The pay's a lot better."

His comment elicited some laughs around the room, and the mood changed dramatically. Sully smiled, as he turned again to the map on the table.

"Now, as I was saying, the Voynich manuscript is currently in the hands of Luis Fernandez."

"Wait," Nate interrupted, "did you say the Voynich manuscript? The book that's written in an undecipherable language and supposed to hold the answers to a bunch of medical and cosmological mysteries?"

Everyone in the room turned to look at Nate. Sully gave him a look that said, _watch it_.

"You got something to say?" Sully asked.

Nate looked around the room and shook his head. "I've heard of it, that's all."

"Well I'm glad we've got an expert on hand."

The other men laughed again. Sully joined in, but his eyes were still on Nate.

"Like I was saying, Mr. Luis Fernandez, an avid art collector, has the manuscript in his private mansion, outside the city of Caracas in Venezuela. And _we_," he emphasized the word as he looked around the room, "are going to take it from him."

. . .

At the end of the briefing, Cuervo and his men agreed to meet at the air field later that night, where a cargo plane would take them to Caracas. Sully pulled Nate aside as the room emptied.

"You okay, kid?"

"Yeah," Nate replied, exhaling with relief. "Nice people you hang out with."

"I trust Cuervo and his men about as far as I can throw'em," Sully said, lowering his voice. "We don't have much of a choice on this one. They have a way into the country, undetected, and they're familiar with people on the ground." He sighed. "You did good. I was worried at first, but all in all, not a bad performance." He placed his hand on Nate's shoulder. "Next time—"

Nate winced involuntarily at the touch.

Sully withdrew his hand. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Nate replied. "A small bruise." He adjusted the collar of his shirt to cover up the dark blemish.

Sully frowned. "Cuervo do that?"

"It was my fault," Nate said quickly. "I let him get too close, and he grabbed me from behind." The mission was his first real chance to prove himself as a treasure hunter and he wasn't going to let a bruise give Sully second thoughts about letting him partake in it.

To change the subject, Nate gave his mentor the once-over. "Do you always dress like Steven Seagal on these jobs?"

Sully looked down at his outfit. "You don't like it?"  
Nate raised his eyebrows. "It's…not you."

"The women are all over it."

"Uh huh," Nate replied.

Sully grinned. "I knew a hooker once that always said, 'If you've got the goods, flaunt it like it's going out of style.'"

Nate rolled his eyes. "I'm not surprised."

Sully's smile retracted a little. "You sure you're up for this job, kid?"

"Of course I am," Nate replied. "We've been doing this for what, a year now? I've picked just about every pocket in Florida and learned how to get into any lock in the city. There's only so much you can practice. I want to do the real thing. I'm ready."

Sully studied him for a second. "It's not all glory and gold, you know. Sometimes, hell, half the time, the job goes wrong and you find yourself limping home with nothing to show but your own blood-soaked shirt. Trust me, kid. This business…the sooner you can get out, the better."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Nate sat by himself against the curved interior of the small cargo plane. His heel tapped nervously on the metal floor as he took another peek at his watch. They were due to arrive in just under an hour.

Cuervo and his men were huddled against the rear of the plane. Morales, the explosives aficionado, had fallen asleep hours ago with one hand wrapped casually around a wooden crate with the word "Danger" stamped on all visible sides. Cuervo and Batista were engaged in conversation about the women in Brazil compared to those in Venezuela, while Rivera, sitting silently amongst them, stared steadily in Nate's direction.

Nate averted the other man's gaze and looked to where Sully sat in the co-pilot's seat of the cockpit. He was chewing on a cigar, watching the last dwindling streaks of light fade below the horizon.

. . .

The plane landed at the "Aeropuerto del Avila," a slightly glorified dirt strip with overgrown bush on the side of a mountain. Cuervo was the first to exit. From what Nate could see, he handed over a pretty hefty wad of cash to the guard on duty. They shook hands and the man disappeared inside the watchtower.

Two large crates full of equipment were unpacked quickly from the plane. Each man suited up in a bullet proof vest and their weapon of choice. Sully handed Nate a vest and 9mm Beretta.

"Hope you know how to shoot, kid." He gave Nate a meaningful look.

Nate holstered the gun. "Don't worry," he said as he struggled with the vest. "I've had a lot of practice."

Sully stepped behind him and snapped the clasp into place. "You have to tighten it here on both sides," he pointed toward the top of the vest. "Otherwise the bottom doesn't fit evenly."

"Ah, look," said Morales. "Victor's got himself a little duckling."

The other men chuckled. "How come you never give us any love, Vic?"

"Because you're all too goddamned ugly to look at," Sully replied shortly.

To Nate's surprise, it was enough to silence them. They finished unpacking and piled into the back of a waiting truck.

Cuervo drove for miles through the dark, mountainous terrain until they reached a sign that read in Spanish, "Private property. No trespassing."

Sully gave Cuervo a nod, who turned the truck off the dirt road, and drove for almost a mile before coming to a stop underneath thick, impassable trees.

"We'll leave it here," Cuervo said as he parked the vehicle. "There's no way anyone from the mansion will come across it."

Sully agreed, and with the headlights turned off, everyone stepped off the truck into the darkness. By the light of a small flashlight, he spread a map of the property onto a wooden crate. The men crowded around as he walked through the plan.

"We know Fernandez has a private library on the third floor of the mansion. It's on the northwest corner, and where the manuscript is most likely going to be. So, we split up into three teams. Two people here to cover the back exit," Sully pointed at a blueprint of the mansion, "two here, at a high vantage point, and the last two to recon the study."

"Now," Sully continued as he leaned back, "who wants to climb up to the third floor?"

The men looked at each other.

"I'll do it," Nate volunteered.

Cuervo grinned. "What did I tell you, Vic? This kid's useful. I'll go with him."

Sully bristled at the unexpected offer. "We don't know anything about the kid. I'll go to keep an eye on him."

Cuervo shook his head. "If you think I'm going to let you get your hands on the manuscript first, then you're badly mistaken." His tone of voice left little room for argument.

"If you think I'm going to let you do the same—"

"This is getting us nowhere," Cuervo interrupted. "Batista will go with the boy and you and I will make the second pair. It's settled."

Sully looked over at Nate, who stared back with worried eyes.

. . .

"You remember the plan?" Sully said quietly as he walked next to Nate. The others were in front of them, scouting for the best locations for surveillance.

"Yeah," Nate replied, failing to hide the edge in his voice.

"You have the camera?"

"Yeah," he replied again.

"Hey." Sully stopped and turned to Nate. "You can do this."

Nate nodded. "What if Batista sees me taking the picture? What if they find out we're only after one page of the manuscript—"

"They won't," said Sully. "We didn't plan for you to end up with him, but we'll improvise. I'll be watching you the entire time."

. . .

Nate stood at the edge of the brick wall that comprised the north wall of the mansion. Three balconies, one extending out from each floor, stood between him and the library.

He took a deep breath. Batista stood next to him, flat against the wall.

"You're gonna stand there all day?" he said as he scanned their surroundings. "Hurry it up."

Nate pushed off the main wall onto the lowest balcony, hoisting himself easily over the iron rails. He ducked, just in case, but the curtains inside were closed. Climbing onto the top of the railing, he pulled himself up onto the second level balcony, and finally onto the third. Compared to climbing the slippery, suburban vinyl siding back home, scaling the brick wall was almost too easy.

Nate unfolded a small lock pick set and focused on the French doors that led into the building. Operating mostly by feel, it took him several tries before hearing the satisfying "click" of the last pin setting in place. He peered over the edge of the balcony, but saw only darkness where Batista was a few minutes before. Turning back to the door, Nate pressed down on one of the curved handles and carefully pulled it towards him.

He listened quietly for movement in the room. After a minute of silence and a small pep talk, Nate parted the heavy curtains an inch. Darkness greeted him. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Nate fumbled for the small flashlight in his pocket and turned it on, making sure to point the stream of light downward. He made a slow sweep through the room, but stopped halfway through.

Something was wrong. He aimed the flashlight at the nearest wall. The tall bookshelves were completely covered in white sheets, as was most of the floor. The rest of the room was empty. The only other object that caught the light was a ladder against the far wall, next to two cans of paint and a couple of dirty brushes.

Before Nate could investigate further, a high pitched siren sounded from multiple speakers. It came through the walls, filled the room, and echoed shrilly throughout the rest of the house. Bright lights snapped to life outside, flooding the entire property.

Nate stuck his body against the nearest wall. He peered out through the balcony into the brightly lit lawn. Nothing. The siren continued to scream. A light turned on in the hallway through the crack in the door. A second later, the door burst open and two uniformed men with assault rifles charged into the room. Nate didn't wait for them to aim, as he vaulted head-first over the balcony.

. . .

Sully swore as the alarm pierced through the mansion and surrounding property. He pulled the night vision binoculars away from his eyes. Cuervo, who was next to him just a minute ago, had vanished. He looked in the direction of the other men, but their stakeout post was also empty.

"Shit," he swore again. It was a setup. Cuervo and his men had been playing them the entire time. He raised the binoculars again and centered in on the third floor balcony, where Nate had picked the lock of the French doors a few minutes ago. A shadow moved from one side of the doors to the other.

"Come on, kid, get outta there," he said under his breath.

He breathed a sigh of relief when Nate reappeared onto the balcony, but it turned into a tensely held breath when he saw two men following closely behind. Nate jumped off the side of the balcony and dangled precariously in the air, holding onto only a thin piece of metal railing. The men shouted something indecipherable as they retreated into the house.

Sully threw the binoculars into the nearest bushes and ran. He was about 500 feet from the mansion, but under the bright flood lights that illuminated everything, it felt like a mile. When he reached the red bricks of the building, he flattened himself against the wall.

"Nate!" he yelled above the sounds of the siren.

Nate, who had landed onto the second floor balcony, peered over its side.

"What happened?" Nate yelled back.

"Follow me," Sully replied, pointing up to the fire escape on the opposite side of the building.

Nate nodded, and began his descent onto the first floor.

. . .

Sully had just reached the second floor of the fire escape when his heart stopped. The siren turned off abruptly as a voice commanded from below.

"Stop where you are or we will shoot."

Sully ducked quickly against the floor, but even as he did so, he knew the command wasn't for him. Slowly, he moved to the edge of the metal grating for a better view.

Nate, who had been only a few steps behind, was surrounded by the same two men in uniform.

Nate raised his hands into the air.

"Take it easy," he said, looking between the two men. His voice was tense. "Just take it easy, okay?"

Sully saw the slight adjustment of Nate's sleeve as his hands came together behind his head, and his right hand reach just inside of his left sleeve.

Sully shook his head with increasing panic. The kid sometimes kept a smoke bomb secured to the inside of his sleeve. It had helped him get out of tricky situations in the past, but the magic trick wouldn't work this time. These guys were trained. As soon as Nate threw the ball onto the ground…

Nate shifted his position. He gripped the ball tightly in his right hand. Before Sully could issue a warning, Nate pitched it at the guards' boots.

Sully didn't think. He dove downward, landing on top of Nate just as a bullet whizzed by the younger man's head. They slid heavily onto the ground, and rolled to a stop in front of the guards.

"Don't shoot," Sully said quickly, his hands already in the air. He looked behind him. Nate lay still on the ground, with the wind knocked out of him.

The nearest guard pointed his gun at Sully's head.

"I have information," Sully volunteered. "About the other intruders."

The guard looked at his partner, and the other man nodded. The last thing Sully remembered was a jolt of surprise before the blow to the back of his head knocked him out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Nate woke to a hot, stabbing pain in his right shoulder. He gasped as another spasm ripped through his body, and opened his eyes to see a blurry image of Sully moving above him. He blinked several times. The other man's hands pressed tightly down on his shoulder.

"Ow," he said with effort. "Sully, that really hurts."

Sully reappeared in his field of vision. "You awake, kid?"

Nate nodded.

"You're a real magnet for bullets, you know that?"

"I…" Nate began, trying to remember what happened. The smoke bomb…Sully coming out of nowhere and pushing him out of the way. The burning sensation that knocked him back…he was hit in the shoulder by the same bullet that was meant for his head.

"It's still bleeding," Sully continued, placing more pressure on the wound. "Not pouring, but not stopping, either."

Nate turned his head to examine the wound. His entire right arm was covered with blood, oozing down from underneath Sully's hands, just beneath his collar bone. The red stain on his shirt was growing slowly but steadily in diameter. The bullet just missed the bulletproof vest, which had been removed. He tried to lift his head to get a better look, but a sharp pain in his clavicle prevented him from moving too much in any direction. Nate exhaled sharply, and lay back down.

"Easy," Sully said as he helped Nate rest his head onto the cement floor. He examined the tissue around the bullet hole with cautious hands.

"It looks bad," Sully said as he pulled back. "A lot of the skin's torn. They must've used expanding bullets. Your collar bone doesn't look too stable, either. Might be a fracture there." His eyes deepened in concern as more blood poured onto Nate's shirt.

Nate followed his gaze to the ugly wound. The mangled flesh mixed with a slurry of wet and dried blood, along with dirt and what appeared to be tiny pieces of metal. He tried again to move his arm, but the sharp pain returned with renewed intensity.

"Try to stay still. A piece of the bullet might be caught in an artery."

"Who are these people?" Nate asked.

"I don't know," Sully replied as he took his outer shirt off and began to shred it into longer, rectangular pieces. "Hired help. Fernandez owns the mansion, but he's just an art collector. He doesn't have the stomach for this kind of stuff." His voice was calm, but his actions were hurried. "Right now, I'm more worried about that shoulder. We have to stop the bleeding."

Nate looked around at their surroundings. They were in a cell, bare except for two large, circular metal rings attached to the ceiling. The iron bars that made up one side of the cell faced a narrow, empty hallway with a door at the far end. His vest and gun were both gone, as were Sully's.

"Where do you think we are?" he asked.

Sully's hands worked quickly to wrap the makeshift bandages around Nate's shoulder.

"I don't know kid, but I don't have a good feeling about this one. It feels like somewhere off site, not on the mansion grounds. There was nothing in the blueprints about a dungeon in the basement, but then again, who knows how accurate those blueprints were."

He looked down at Nate as he began tying the first one. "This is going to hurt."

Nate nodded, and grunted in pain as Sully tied the bandage tightly around his shoulder.

"Cuervo…" he managed to say.

"They played us," Sully replied. "He knew the manuscript was in another part of the house. Having you go up into the library set us up so we couldn't escape in time." He exhaled in anger. "The next time I see that son of a bitch…"

The door at the end of the hallway opened with a loud creak. Sully stood as five men filed into the dark hallway. Their boots echoed off the cement walls as they neared. A key inserted into the lock, and the guards who captured Nate and Sully entered the cell. They stood at attention on either side of the iron door. A third man entered, while the two remaining guards stood outside.

The man that was clearly their leader stepped into the dim light. His face revealed itself incrementally under the single bulb until there was no mistake of his identity.

"We meet again, Victor Sullivan," said the man with a malicious smile.

. . .

Sully replaced the look of shock on his face a second too late. The other man continued to grin.

"I know what you're thinking," he said. "What are the chances of this happening, after you so deftly escaped from my grasp twenty years ago? A million to one? _Ten_ million to one? This is fate, my friend. It's fate giving us a second chance."

"Murillo," Sully said with disdain. "I should've known you were behind this. This place reeks of your stench."

The smile on Murillo's face resumed at full force. "I see you haven't changed much. Still getting caught for doing second rate work." He paced the small space in front of Sully, stopping to look down at Nate. "And who is your friend?"

"Don't know his name," Sully shrugged. "Some kid we picked up yesterday for the job."

Murillo continued to circle Sully.

"Why take the time to bandage him if you don't know him?"

"I'm not a monster, like you. I wasn't going to let him bleed to death."

Murillo stopped his pacing. He stared at the puddle of blood that had collected on the floor near Nate's shoulder. He looked back into Sully's eyes, and held the stare. When they broke eye contact, he motioned for the guards and nodded toward Nate.

"Get him up."

Nate grunted in pain as the guards hoisted him to his feet. His head spun from the sudden change in position.

"Since we are such good friends, Victor, I will not insult you with pretenses." Murillo nodded again toward one of his men. The guard twisted Nate's injured arm behind him, forcing out a cry of pain.

Sully moved a fraction of a step toward the guard, but forced himself to stop. He stood with clenched fists.

Murillo pointed a gun at Nate's temple.

"If he doesn't know anything, he's of no use to me."

"Even you're not that twisted, Murillo. He's just a kid."

Murillo narrowed his eyes. "But I think you're lying to me, my friend. I think you know this boy, and I think he's of value to you." He cocked the gun. "I will remind you of how this goes. I count to three, and if you haven't given me information concerning the manuscript, he dies. One. Two…"

"If you kill him," Sully threatened, "you'll never find the manuscript."

Murillo's features filled with curiosity. "I'm touched. Victor Sullivan has developed a soft spot." He turned to Nate. "We'll have to see exactly how much you mean to him, my young friend."

. . .

The guards brought in a set of long, heavy iron chains that threaded though the metal rings in the ceiling. They ended in metal cuffs that engulfed Nate's wrists.

Nate shirt was ripped from his body as the lever that raised the chain groaned to life. Excruciating pain shot down from his arms. They were forced upward until his feet barely touched the ground. He turned to look at Sully, and saw something that he had never before seen in his mentor's eyes. Fear.

Murillo dug his fingers into Nate's wound until fresh blood poured out. Nate bit down on his tongue, but a scream still rose from his lips.

Two sets of rough hands restrained Sully as he lunged forward.

"You bastard!" He spat from where he stood.

With surprising agility, Murillo kicked Sully's legs so his knees smashed down onto the hard concrete. He pulled Sully's collar back so they both looked at the younger man in front of them. A trail of blood ran down the length of Nate's body.

"Give me the location of the men that took the manuscript," he whispered into Sully's ear, "and I will think about killing him quickly."

Sully turned to him with seething eyes. "And if I tell you I don't know where they are because the same men also betrayed me?"

"Then I will cut off his flesh, piece by piece, strip by strip; and you will watch him beg for death."

Murillo stood and patted Sully on the shoulder. "I admit, I was hoping you won't give in right away. I've made some changes to _el __látigo_ since you were last acquainted."

One of the soldiers opened a long, rectangular case and placed the whip into Murillo's palm. He examined the weapon tenderly, running his fingers along the thick leather rope that split into multiple braided ends. Tiny metal spikes poked out from each of the braids.

He turned and with practiced ease, sprung the whip to life. It cracked loudly in the air before the tiny spikes pierced into Nate's chest.

Nate screamed out in torment. The burning on his chest overpowered the pain in his arm.

With the flick of his wrist, Murillo withdrew his weapon, leaving multiple jagged openings in the skin, quickly filling with blood.

"I'm going to kill you," Sully said, still forced to kneel on the floor. "You touch him one more time, and you're a dead man."

Murillo smiled at Sully. "Empty threats do you no good here." The whip shot out from his hand and caught the younger man a second time.

Nate's scream muffled into a grunt as he bit down hard on his tongue. The room dimmed in and out of his vision.

"_Hijo de puta_," Sully spat out in anger. "He doesn't know anything."

"Tell me where the manuscript is, and this will all be over." Murillo readied the whip a third time.

"Wait."

Murillo hesitated.

Sully looked up at Nate, who appeared to be unconscious. His pale body swayed lifelessly beneath the chains.

"Look, we can settle this like men," he said, straining to calm his voice. "Let the boy go, and I'll tell you where you can find it."

Murillo grabbed onto Nate's shoulder and dug his thumb into the bullet wound, making a fresh rivulet of blood appear. Nate's body shivered, but he made no sound. His head hung limply below his shoulders.

"Do you think I'm a stupid man, Victor? Tell me the location first." He grabbed Nate's jaw to tilt his head up. "I don't think our young friend can take much more of this."

"Okay," Sully conceded. "Okay, I'll tell you. Bring him down first."

"The location first."

"I need to make a call. I'll contact Cuervo and set up a meet to buy it back. He's only in it for the money. I'll say you're willing to double the price. You can take it from him when he shows. That's the best I can do."

Murillo considered Sully's words. "One phone call. He stays here until you return."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Murillo's soldiers led him into another cell, this one crudely outfitted with a wooden table and chair. There was a telephone in front of him. His next move would determine if he and Nate lived or died.

The guard behind him picked up the receiver in a gesture of mock courtesy. Sully grabbed the plastic handpiece slowly, trying desperately to think of something that could get him out of his current situation. If Murillo found out he had no idea where Cuervo was…

The idea struck him as he watched a piece of dried mud fall off one of the guard's boots. A look at the other guard confirmed his theory. Their camouflaged pants were also splattered with small pieces of mud. They had to walk down a dirt road to get to the makeshift prison, one that turned into mud after yesterday's rain. Sully searched his memory about the area surrounding the Fernandez estate. Besides the support buildings on the south side of the property and a couple of acres of farmland to the north, the mansion was surrounded by mountainous forests on all sides. Sully blinked in surprise. The farm. That was it. It could hide a small, concrete building easily within its borders. Murillo could pass it off as a storage unit, or animal housing. No one would question it. The mud was from walking on the wet roads that lead to the farm.

Sully felt the cold steel of a pistol barrel touch his temple.

"We do not have all day," the guard said with his finger on the trigger. "Señor Murillo is not a patient man."

. . .

He held his breath as the phone continued to ring. On the fifth try, a click sounded at the other end.

"_Aló_?" A female voice answered.

Sully breathed a sigh of relief. "Gabriela?"

"_Sí. Quién es_?"

"Victor Sullivan," Sully answered.

There was a long pause on the line. "Sully? This is a welcome surprise. Are you back in Colombia?"

"Actually, I'm just outside of Caracas, and I need a favor, big time."

"And I thought you were calling just to say hi," she teased.

Sully cleared his throat. "Do you remember that incident we had at the border a couple of years ago?"

They had worked together on smuggling multiple artifacts from Colombia into Venezuela, but the time they were both placed in front of an execution line would never leave either of their memories.

"Of course I do," she said, sounding more cautious.

"Well, I'm in a similar situation here. Mr. Murillo wants what Santino Cuervo took from the Fernandez estate, and I told him you could set up a meet between him and Cuervo tomorrow morning."

"Murillo? Sully, I don't know what you're—"

"I know it's short notice," Sully continued, hoping to make her understand. "But I also know you have connections, and you're the only one that can get the message to Cuervo. I need this, Gabriela. You should see the accommodations they've put my partner and I up at. Concrete walls, iron bars, not a window in sight; it's like a pigsty in here, in the middle of the goddamned forest."

Sully looked up at the guards. He hoped it was enough of a description to hint at his location. He couldn't risk going into any more detail.

There was another long pause on the line. Papers shuffled and the sound of keys typing on a keyboard filled the background. Gabriela was a smart woman, but he was giving her almost nothing to work with. He prayed it would work.

"I can set up the meet," Gabriela finally responded, "but with such short notice, it's going to cost a pretty penny."

"You know I'm good for it," said Sully.

"Tell Murillo to come to the central bus station in Los Teques at ten tomorrow morning. Cuervo will want to meet there to ensure his safety."

Sully smiled briefly into the receiver. Los Teques was directly opposite of where he and Nate were being held. While Murillo and a big portion of his men attended the phantom meeting with Cuervo, Gabriela would have the best chance of rescuing him and Nate form the prison.

"Thank you, Gabriela. I'll explain everything later."

. . .

"Tomorrow morning, 10 o'clock, the Los Teques bus station," were the first words out of Sully's mouth when he was escorted back to the cell. "Now unchain him."

Murillo looked to the guards to confirm Sully's words. With a nod of his head, they began to unlock the heavy shackles around Nate's hands. The kid remained motionless, collapsing to the ground when both hands were freed.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Murillo said as he turned to Sully. "I look forward to meeting Mr. Cuervo tomorrow. If he doesn't show…well, you know how it is. This will be the last night for the both of you."

Sully stood still as his captors left the cell. When they were out of earshot, he knelt quickly to examine Nate's barely conscious body. The original bullet wound slowly oozed blood that mixed with the fresh wounds from Murillo's whip. His face was deathly white.

"Nate?" Sully said as he began to rip new pieces of cloth from his discarded shirt. "Hey, kid, you hear me?"

Working as fast as he could, Sully retied the bandages around Nate's shoulder.

"Stay with me, okay?"

Satisfied that his work had at least temporarily stopped the bleeding, Sully moved back to Nate's head.

He shook the younger man's good arm. "Come on, kid, wake up."

Nate moaned, and with effort, opened his eyes.

"There you go." Sully said as he looked down at the now completely blood soaked shirt the kid was wearing. There was too much blood.

"Sully?" Nate asked weakly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry about, kid," Sully answered. "All of this is my fault. I got us into this mess, and I'm going to get us out. Tomorrow morning. You hear me?"

Nate's eyes were closed again.

"Nate, stay with me, okay?"

Sully cleared his throat when he heard the desperation in his own voice. "Just a couple of hours, and the cavalry will be here."

Nate gave a small nod. "Okay."

Sully studied the shallow rise and fall of Nate's chest. They didn't have much time. The same fear that gripped him earlier returned with full force. Tomorrow morning may be too late.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 **

Sully snapped his head up. It took him a moment to recognize his surroundings. A single light bulb hung above him, dimly lit and out of reach. He must've dozed off.

Sully turned to his right, where Nate lay on the concrete floor. The younger man's eyes were closed, but his features were contorted into a frown.

"Nate."

There was no response. Sully placed his hand on Nate's arm. "C'mon kid, time to wake up."

Sully shifted his fingers to Nate's wrist. The kid's skin was cool and clammy to the touch. His pulse was barely decipherable. They were running out of time.

There was no way to tell the passage of time in their windowless, concrete cell. Judging by his own fatigue, Sully knew it had been well over twenty-four hours since they were first captured. If he placed the call to Gabriela sometime yesterday afternoon, after they were caught the previous night, then it should be about early to late morning. The fake meeting with Cuervo was supposed to happen at ten.

Sully sighed in frustration. Exhaustion and dehydration crawled their way into his consciousness. They could be a couple of minutes or a couple of hours from rescue.

"Nate?" Sully tried again. He shook the kid harder, careful not to do any more damage to the collarbone.

Nate's eyes fluttered open, then closed. He swallowed.

"Yeah?"

"I need you to wake up. Open your eyes."

Nate shook his head weakly. "Too…tired."

"I know," Sully sighed, "and I'm sorry about this." He lifted Nate into a sitting position, as the younger man whimpered in pain.

Nate opened his eyes slowly. He blinked a couple of times in confusion. "Where are we, Sully?"

The muffled but undeniable sound of helicopter blades outside caught Sully's attention.

"You hear that?" Sully asked.

Nate nodded.

The older man broke into a grin. "That's our ticket out of here."

The spinning blades roared closer. They heard shouts outside as the guards that stayed behind scrambled for their weapons. Gunshots turned into a chorus of fire power between the two sides. As the helicopter prepared to land, a well-aimed missile obliterated the small guard station just outside the cell.

Sully reflexively crouched over Nate as dust cascaded down from the ceiling. The light bulb above swayed from side to side in protest.

After a second of silence, the gunfire resumed at full force. This time, it appeared to be aimed at the entrance to the building. Moments later, a muffled yell outside was followed by a loud bang, as hinges of the metal door were blasted off.

A woman with olive skin and dark brown hair appeared through the dust. She spotted Sully, and hurried to the cell.

"Gabriela. God is it good to see you," Sully said in relief.

"Still attracting trouble everywhere you go, I see," Gabriela said with a smile. She fired a well-aimed round and the lock on the cell door fell to the ground.

Her smile turned into a frown at the site of Nate. "Who's this?"

"My partner," Sully replied. "Help me get him up."

She kneeled to examine Nate more closely, then looked up carefully at Sully.

"He's lost a lot of blood."

"Yeah, and the sooner we can get him out of here, the sooner we can get it back into him."

"Sully…"

"What?" Sully said, too forcefully.

"He can't walk. The helicopter is a quarter kilometer away. I have one man that's the pilot and another on alert for reinforcements, which will be coming any second. That leaves the two of us. We can't carry him that far in the open field. We'll be sitting targets."

Sully ground his jaws together. "I won't leave him here. Either he comes or we both stay. I'll carry him. All you have to do is cover me."

"How are you going to carry him with that shoulder? You're going to do more damage than good."

"We don't have a choice," said Sully. "And the longer we stay and talk about it, the more likely Murillo's men are going to show up."

"Sully, it's not going to work. We can't take him."

"I'll give you double what I promised over the phone. Come on, that's enough for half a year's pay."

Gabriela swore. "Goddammit Sully, you're gonna get us all killed, you know that?"

"Gabriela, I'm asking for your help. Please."

She took another second to consider the options, before finally agreeing. "Okay, we stand him up on three."  
Sully nodded. "One, two…three!"

The pain that sliced through Nate's brain somehow served to regain his focus. He grabbed onto Gabriela's arm as she steadied him.

Strong hands lifted him off the ground. They exited the door into bright, mid-morning light. Each bounce of Sully's footsteps bit into his pain threshold. The broken bone felt like it was embedding itself deeper into muscle.

The hum of the helicopter blades eventually increased into a loud roar. Nate's eyes fluttered open and shut. The sun and the noise blended into a dome of white light, until he fell into unconsciousness and felt nothing.


	6. Chapter 6

**mgowriter's note**: Thank you for reading! I really appreciate the reviews! I started another Uncharted story and hopefully will have that up in a few weeks :)

* * *

**Chapter 6**

The steady rhythm of a heart monitor beeped close to his right ear. He swallowed, forcing the little moisture he had in his mouth past the dry lump in his throat. _Water_, he thought to himself, and opened his eyes.

Nate found himself in another bare, concrete room. This one, however, featured a small window on the opposite wall. From what he could see, the sky outside was a mass of grey, signaling either dawn or dusk. The bed that he lay on was little more than a makeshift stretcher in the center of the small, square room. He couldn't remember how he ended up here.

Nate traced the needle that was embedded into a vein in his right hand. It ended in an IV bag that hung above him. A pulse oximeter was attached to his index finger. The monitor at his bedside read off numbers that constantly fluctuated. Strangely, he had little feeling in his body, except for the sensation of floating, as if he was disconnected from his surroundings. _Morphine_. He remembered the same sensation from a year ago, a broken arm in Peru.

He spotted a cup of water on a wooden stand within reach. Nate swallowed again, and reached for the cup. Just as he grasped the plastic vessel, the IV line jerked his hand and the cup toppled to the floor, spilling the only water in sight. A grunt sounded from behind him. Nate turned his head too quickly. The room spun as he tried to focus on the figure approaching him.

"Sully," Nate managed to say. His voice was barely a whisper. Despite his thirst, he had a big grin on his face. They made it. He didn't know how, but Sully had managed to get them out of another impossible situation.

Sully appeared at the side of his bed, and returned his smile with one of his own.

"Hey kid, welcome back." He placed the back of his hand on Nate's forehead.

"You had quite a fever there," he said. "An infection from the wound. But it looks like the antibiotics are finally working."

Up close, the worry lines on Sully's face were more pronounced than usual. He looked exhausted.

"Where are we?" Nate asked.

"We're still in Venezuela, about two hours from that bastard Murillo's base," said Sully as he reached down and picked up a bottle of water off the floor. "Don't worry. They think we're long gone, out of the country. They won't be looking for us." Sully straightened himself and handed the opened bottle to Nate.

The relief on Nate's face disappeared as he watched Sully's movements—slow and deliberate, wholly uncharacteristic of the man that he had grown to know and trust in the past year.

Sully paused after standing up, holding onto the side of the bed to steady himself. He closed his eyes to fight off the vertigo.

"What's wrong?" Nate asked.

"Drink your water," Sully replied.

Nate looked at the bottle in his hand. He took a long drink, relishing the feeling of cool liquid running down his raw throat.

"How long have I been out?" he asked.

"Three days," Sully replied.

It wasn't hard to believe, because Sully looked as if he hadn't slept in the same amount of time. Nate searched his memory again. Three days. He didn't remember any of it. The last thing he remembered was the cell door opening, and looking into a woman's face. What was her name? Gabriela. He remembered her and Sully helping him up. The bloody handprint he left on her bronze skin.

Blood. That was it. He fainted from the loss of blood. Nate's hand automatically went to his right arm. What was once a gaping hole was now neatly bandaged. He looked up at Sully, noticing for the first time the lack of color in the older man's skin.

"You gave me blood," said Nate.

"I'm O negative," Sully shrugged. "Universal donor."

"How much blood?" He asked.

"Hey, I wasn't going to let them give you the stuff off the black market," Sully replied. "Trust me, kid, you want the water tested before drinking from the well." He tried to mask his labored breathing, but the effort of merely holding a conversation made him short of breath.

"Too much," said Nate, answering his own question. "I would've died."

Sully frowned at his words. "Now kid, don't get too dramatic. It was just a little blood. Free to make, free to give."

Nate shook his head. "You risked your life for me."

Sully sighed. "I got us into this mess. It was the least I could do to get us out of it."

"Does Cuervo still have the manuscript?"

"Don't get me started on that scumbag," Sully replied with anger. "The second I get my hands on him…" he stopped himself, but his breathing quickly became troubled.

Nate sat further up in bed, his expression turning into real concern.

"I'm okay," Sully reassured him. He leaned heavily onto the bedrail. "I just need a minute."

"Sully—"

"Kid, you ever hear the phrase 'stronger than an ox'?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Well you're looking at the guy they named it after," said Sully. "Give me twenty-four hours, and I'll be good as new."

Nate looked skeptical.

"You on the other hand," Sully continued, "were a real fixer upper. The doc said you're gonna be in a splint for at least a month."

Nate examined bandages around his shoulder again. "When can we leave?"

"Another day of two, maybe," Sully replied.

"Good," said Nate. "I want to get out of here."

"I'll make you a deal, kid. You keep on getting better, and I'll arrange the transport."

"Okay," Nate agreed. "If you do the same."

"Deal," said Sully. "Now lie back down and enjoy the morphine while you still have it. That stuff isn't cheap, you know."

Nate smiled. He rested back onto the pillow. Considering everything, the heist was a horrible bust, but he didn't mind. Both he and Sully were alive, and it was all that mattered. With the help of the morphine, he was asleep in minutes.


End file.
